Wizards & Witches
by l0stinl0ve
Summary: Due to Dobby's Law, Ronald Weasley has to go around the proper channels to procure a House-elf, setting off all sorts of problems. Written for round 3 of dramione-remix. Original couple was Sky Masterson/Seargeant Sarah Brown from Guys & Dolls.
1. Act I

_Written for Round 3 of Dramione-Remix. This fic is completed and is only two chapters. I will post the final chapter next week. _

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**Title:** Wizards & Witches  
**Chapter:** 1/2  
**Author ****y3llowdaisi3s**  
**Rating:** M16  
**Original Couple:** Sky Masterson / Sergeant Sarah Brown (Guys & Dolls)  
**Word Count:** ~7k/~12k  
**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of several people who are not me, so take what is written here as such. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement was intended.  
**Summary:** Due to Dobby's Law, Ronald Weasley has to go around the proper channels to procure a House-elf.  
**Warnings:** Implicit Sexual Relations  
**Author's Note:** Thank you to T and Y for being a wonderful beta. Thank you to MM for helping me with plotting this out even though you can't stand Dramione, and thank you to several people over at **highstakes_ww** for helping me get this done. I tried to keep the spirit of the original pair and even took bits and pieces and reworked it into the story. I hope that any hardcore musical fans don't hate this and I did an okay job of this. I can't even begin to tell you how much I struggled with this. Also, thank you to the mods for allowing me an extension. I hope what I present now was worth that. Enjoy!

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**Wizards & Witches**

"You know, it seems that everyone is pairing off," Narcissa said, placing her cup back on the tea tray.

"Yes, just the other day, Harry said Ron was considering asking Pansy to move in with him. It was only yesterday when the two couldn't stand to be in the same room," Andromeda chuckled, placing her teacup on a saucer held by her other hand in her lap.

It was a nice summer afternoon, and the two remaining Black sisters were having their usual weekly high tea. They were in the sun room: it was in the very back of the Manor, with a large, picturesque window showcasing the grounds behind the home. The clink of the tea cups made an echoing down the silent corridor, drawing the attention of the only other person in the house.

The two sisters continued discussing the gossip of the younger generation, giggling like schoolgirls - the sisters they weren't able to be for so many years.

The sight almost made Draco tear up, but he was a Malfoy, so he held the tears at bay, and smiled at the happiness radiating from his mother and aunt.

He glided [because really, what else could a Malfoy do when entering a room?] into the room, greeting both occupants with a nod, and sat himself to his mother's left, and across from his Aunt Andromeda.

He smiled at the pair. Both were distinctly beautiful in their own way. While his Aunt Bellatrix was always a deranged beauty, his other aunt held a traditional beauty in her serene and sombre poise. Losing much of her family in the war aged her, but she aged well. His mother, on the other hand, with Lucius in Azkaban and not present to continue harming the family, seemed to blossom. She was always beautiful - in a porcelain doll sort of way - but now beamed with a new found confidence brought on by being around sane, loving family - her estranged sister, precious grand-nephew and doting son.

"Ladies, how are you this fine afternoon?" he asked, stopping his mother from serving him his tea by raising one hand. He poured a smidgen of milk into his cup before picking up the white porcelain teapot with flowers painted on it - by him, no less, when he was five - and poured himself a cup - it must've been Lady Grey, his mother's favourite, and the zesty smell over the traditional black tea was hard to miss. He returned the teapot to its original place in the middle of the coffee table before them, and grabbed a small cucumber sandwich before seating himself once more.

"Just discussing the love lives of your classmates, dear," his mother responded, a twinkle in her eye.

Draco mentally shuddered. The twinkle in her eye never led to anything good.

"Oh yes, were you aware that Harry and Ginny have finally set a date?" his aunt asked him, placing her saucer and cup back onto the tray.

He shook his head. No, he didn't know, nor did he care.

"Or were you aware that Daphne and Neville are expecting their first child? As is Blaise and Luna, their children will be darling," his mother said, turning herself to face him more fully.

"Oh yes, and Greg and Padma are expecting another little one early next year," Andromeda added, taking another small sip of her tea.

"Good on them," he muttered, nibbling on another sandwich. He didn't particularly care for where this conversation was going, not really sure where it was going in the first place.

"Yes, and Ronald Weasley is intending on asking Pansy Parkinson to move in with him," Narcissa announced, returning her cup to the tea service.

Draco scoffed. That was a couple he could hardly believe came together, let alone, continuing further.

"Draco," his mother admonished, "Pansy is very happy with Ronald."

"She could do worse. And Ron's flat happens to be rather nice."

"Exactly. Thank you, 'Meda," Narcissa nodded.

"Sorry mother, aunt," Draco apologized, keeping his eyes on his cooling tea. He reached for another sandwich - a small fruit bread roll with cream cheese spread within. His mother always served the best high tea.

"And what about you, nephew? When are you going to settle down? Or at least find someone to consider being serious with?" Andromeda questioned.

"Oh, yes, is there anyone single in your year to consider?" Narcissa asked.

"Well, there's that Greengrass girl, but she's very much like her younger sister - 'ambitious' I believe is the word gold-diggers are using these days. You should mind yourself and stay away from the likes of them," Andromeda reminded.

Draco nodded, remembering the disastrous but brief relationship he had with Astoria Greengrass. He would serve the Dark Lord once more before hitching himself with a Greengrass - and they'd probably want him too, to boot. Just one of the many reasons he was happy to be rid of the harpy.

"What about that Granger girl, the one who always beat you in school?" Narcissa probed.

"You mean Hermione? She's still single. Like a niffler to gold when it comes to her work though, but not seriously seeing anyone. Or seeing anyone in general," Andromeda answered before Draco could scoff at the idea of him and Granger dating.

"Oh yes, I've always admired her spirit. Hard working, intelligent, poised. If only she fixed her hair, she'd be darling," his mother mused, much to his derision. What was she smoking? "With Ron and Pansy becoming so serious, she's going to have to start considering a relationship of her own. And soon. Everyone is pairing off. All of her friends are already taken."

"Too true, Cissa. The girl may like her work, but she is a girl, no girl wants to be alone, deep down. You should see her when with Teddy. You can tell she wants that one day."

"Hmm, interesting."

Draco kept his mouth shut and tried to tune both women out. Yes, Granger had grown into a beautiful woman - she had legs and an arse that he could stare at for days. She was also smart - in a swotty sort of way - and successful. He could do worse, he mused. He continued to peck at the sandwiches and drink his tea, occasionally refilling his mother or aunt's cups.

* * *

"No, that isn't right. No, that needs to go there. Hmm, yes, that should work. Oh, if only," Hermione muttered, pacing around her small office. It was a mess. Papers scattered over any flat surface - floor included - cold tea perched on the windowsill and shelves and stacks of books, various parchment sheets hiding it from its owner's view. Against the wall across from her desk was a large chalk board that Hermione had listed several Pureblood families and Stuck lists of elves' names on it. She would stare at one name, and then at a Pureblood family, mentally calculating who belonged where. Some families were red, while others were green. There were only a few elves with their names highlighted in yellow - meaning they were free and without an owner, as yellow was a colour that represented freedom.

Hermione was so focused on what she was doing, she didn't hear the knock on her door, nor did she hear the first cleared-throat-cough thing that one of her best friends was known for when in her presence. Instead she kept muttering at the board, tapping her chin, worrying her lip, and furrowing her brows, deep in thought.

"Hermione," her visitor finally shouted, drawing her attention away from her work - just when she was about to have a breakthrough, she was sure.

"Ronald, it's rude to disturb someone when they're working," she chided, walking around her desk, careful where she stepped, to avoid the papers that contained information she needed to help free more elves and make all elves lives better. Everything was stacked up in an organized manner that only she knew - granted it would take her a while to remember what it was.

"First off, it's Saturday. Secondly, you're always working, so it would be sort of hard to never be disturbing you," he preached, a large grin on his face as he pushed the papers off a visitor's chair.

Hermione's eyes went large and she was about to berate him for the action when he simply Summoned them to his hands and placed them atop the other chair, perpendicular to the stack already there. He raised his brow at her to ensure that this was okay. She conceded with a nod.

"If I was to follow your idea of etiquette, and not disturb you while you were working, I'd have to wait til you slept, and I'm sure that has a rule against it too," he joked.

Hermione didn't think it prudent to tell him he was actually right, but she was rather busy. She was on a mission and she didn't like distractions getting in the way. It took a very dedicated individual to ensure that Magical Creatures received the rights they deserved - even if she was the only one who thought they did - and she worked hard to get the Wizengamot to back her - they caved and allowed a limit to the number of House-elves any family could own: one for every two residents living at home full-time, and they were to be paid a decent wage. Now, if only she could get everyone else to follow through. Most families refused to free their elves, let alone pay them any sort of pittance.

She sighed, maybe a short break would help her. She had been staring at the wall for a good two hours, and no epiphanies had occurred. Her mother always told her to take a step back and come back later - an idea may present itself to a fresh set of eyes. She rubbed her eyes with her fists and let her elbows rest on the tabletop. "What is it that you wanted, Ron?" she queried, still rubbing at her eyes.

"Oh, I was wondering, well, did you know how I would go about getting a House-elf?" he muttered, barely breathing between words.

It took Hermione a few moments to figure out what he was saying, and even then, she still needed clarification. "I'm sure you know the proper channels. I've only spoken about this to you and Harry a few hundred times." At the perplexed look her friend gave, she sighed, and explained, "First you would need to fill out a form. It's over there on top of the biscuit tin."

Ron's stomach growled at the mention of biscuits, and she rolled her eyes. "No, there aren't any biscuits. Maybe one, be my guest." She vaguely shooed the idea of biscuits away with a gesture of her hand.

"Fill out the form and deliver it to Carole Haztlebee at the front desk along with the fifty Galleons processing fee, then it needs to go through the proper channels. Eventually it'll end up here," she pointed in the direction of the corner behind her, where a filing cabinet rested against the wall. "I'll review it and put you on the waiting list. Which you can see on this wall over here," she directed his attention to the wall to the right of her desk, next to the door that entered her office. The list held seven names.

"Once you reach the top of the list, you'll be scheduled for an interview and an inspection. I'll ask you a series of questions to ensure the safety and happiness of the House-elf is in your top priority. If I find your answers satisfactory, we'll schedule a time for me to inspect the area of their main employment. This may be your home or your business, but it can only be one. If you want to do both, then you need to fill out different paperwork."

She looked at Ron to see if this was what he needed. He shook his head, so she continued, "Again, the safety and happiness of the House-elf is of the utmost importance and what I'll primarily be gauging for. Once you've passed all of that, when a House-elf is available, we then introduce you, and if he or she is amenable, you will need to pay the actual registration fee which is another fifty Galleons. There are random quarterly inspections for the first year, and then bi-annual every year thereafter. The current minimum wage for House-elves is 10 Galleons a week," Hermione droned, as if reading off a script.

"Are you serious?" Ron gaped.

"Quite," Hermione affirmed. Of course she was serious. This was serious business. The life of a House-elf was a hard one and Hermione had vowed in her fourth year to make it a better one for them however best she could.

"Now, if I wanted to get one without the proper channels?" he pressed.

"Ronald, how could you suggest such a thing!" Hermione was outraged. For him to even ask about this was to undermine all the hard work she had been doing for the past few years.

"I'm just saying, that's a lot to get one bloody House-elf," he muttered.

Hermione saw red. This was why the two of them hadn't worked out. They just didn't see eye to eye on the things that mattered - to her at least; the thing he thought mattered was far off her spectrum. She held her breath and counted to ten, less she hex her best friend.

"Okay, I'm sorry 'Mione. I'll fill out the form before I leave," Ron sighed, trying to appease the livid witch.

Hermione let out the breath she knew she was holding and smiled. He was learning.

"So why are you working on a Saturday?" he asked, scooting forward to sit on the edge of his seat.

Hermione grinned. She appreciated that he was trying to seem eager to know more about what she was doing. She knew she hadn't spent any time with her friends for a few weeks, and she vowed that she would make sure that she'd use her built-up vacation time for the two weeks everyone liked to celebrate Yule with.

"You see that list over there." She pointed back to the wall she was studying when he had first entered, across from her desk and behind Ron. "Well, I'm going over which families are in violation of the new Dobby Law as far as the number of House-elves owned and those awaiting wages."

"Okay," he nodded, staring at the wall, looking at all the names of House-elves and who owned them.

"Well, I was just about to write letters informing them that they had seventy-two hours to abide by all sections of legislation before being heavily fined," she surmised, Summoning parchment so she could get started.

"And who are you starting with?" Ron asked, leaning forward to read what she wrote.

"Malfoy, the sodding git. He has five House-elves. _Five_. It's just him and his mum at the Manor, but they're claiming Andromeda and Teddy so they're allowed to keep two." She replied, not taking her eyes off her writing.

"Oh, well, I guess I'll leave you to your work." Ron announced, standing up from his seat. "I'll see you for gift exchange next weekend, yeah?" he asked, while standing at the door.

"Mhmm," she mumbled in agreement, focusing on her work, not hearing Ron leave her office.

* * *

Ron really wished his best friend wasn't such a stickler for rules. She didn't always follow the rules when they were in school. But throw in House-elf rights and all of a sudden rules were the law - literally.

He sighed.

If he wanted to convince Pansy that living together wasn't a bad idea, that she could have a life that she was used to while still being with him, then it would all be worth it.

_Or so he hoped_.

He pulled back the ornate snake knocker from the front door and let it fall back. He shifted from foot to foot for a minute and then made to reach out for it again. Before he could touch the evil looking thing, the door swung open, letting him see into an empty foyer.

"Welcome," a squeaky voice said from under his chin. Ron looked down at the neatly dressed - he had a waistcoat on - moss-coloured House-elf. It had large purple eyes that were staring at him in anticipation. For what, Ron wasn't sure, but the elf let him know when it realised Ron wasn't saying anything. "Mays I helps you?" it asked.

"Oh," he breathed, "Yeah. I'd like to speak with Malfoy."

The House-elf eyed him warily, and Ron sighed. Leave it to Malfoy to have suspicious House-elves. "The young master does not like redhead visitors." He let go of the door, letting it swing closed.

"Wait." Ron held the door back with his foot. This really was his only chance - unless he figured out a way to get one hundred Galleons quickly or somehow convince Hermione to waive the fees. Pansy didn't cook, she didn't clean. If the two of them were to live together and be happy, a House-elf was imperative for their relationship to get to the next level. He just knew it. "It's regarding Pansy Parkinson," he divulged, unhappy to use his trump card so soon.

The elf's purple eyes widened, it sputtered, and then it blinked out of existence, leaving the door wide open. Ron stepped into the grand foyer and dusted the snow from his robes.

Another elf - this one more lime in colour with blue eyes, and a pink tea cosy wrapped around its body - stepped from a room to the side and screeched upon seeing Ron. "Redhead! Redhead ins the hoooouse. Master will be's most displeased!" It shouted, pointing at Ron while hopping up and down, arm stretched out flailing.

Ron tried to calm the elf down by pulling his jumper over his head, thinking hiding the red hair would calm it down.

"That's not going to work," a voice drawled - that Ron hated with a passion - from a staircase up ahead. "They're not idiots, especially not Circa. They're not going to forget just because they can't see. I always knew a House-elf was smarter than you." He continued to speak as he stepped down the stairs and towards Ron.

"Malfoy," he barely managed to say without contempt. Ron had to remind himself that trading insults with the ferret would not get him what he wanted.

"And what has brought you here?" Draco asked, leading him into the drawing room that Circa had originally stepped out of. Circa and the first House-elf walked around Ron, never turning their back to him, until he disappeared into the room.

"Well, you see," he tried hard not to stutter, "I want a House-elf."

Draco laughed. Ron could hear the elves tickling laugh from the hallway as well. His cheeks flushed and he clenched his fists.

Draco relaxed into an armchair, not giving Ron's rigid posture any notice. "And why haven't you asked your better third?" he made a gesture with his forefinger and another elf - this one with olive skin and purple eyes, wearing a dark grey towel around its body, like a dress - rushed to the nearby liquor cabinet. It kept its back to the wall, making Ron roll his eyes.

The elf handed a tumbler of Firewhiskey to its master and staggered back into its corner, again never letting its eyes leave Ron's face. "I tried, too much paperwork. I figured going to you would be easier," he responded confidently. He would not let the ex-Death Eater intimidate him.

"And you thought I would give you one because..." Draco's words were cut off by the pop of another House-elf - this one all green. It had green eyes, skin the colours of peas, and a mint coloured tube sock with an end cut off on its body. It was holding a sealed envelope. "Thank you Chooky," he nodded to the House-elf, taking the letter before it Disapparated. He opened the envelope immediately.

Ron saw the official Ministry seal, and knew that Draco would have to play into his hands. He couldn't contain his glee and grinned.

"I see, so you figured that this would endear me to giving you a House-elf?" he asked, waving the letter before leisurely placing it on the seat's arm. He continued to sip at his drink as if the letter meant nothing.

"Well, yeah, you have to get rid of three of your House-elves. Might as well let me take one off your hands." Ron thought Malfoy was smart. He shouldn't need this to be explained to him.

"And I don't think so," Draco replied, signalling to the elf in the corner for more Firewhiskey. The elf hustled to meet his master's orders, and in a flash had the tumbler refilled. "Thank you Whillikers," he nodded to the elf.

Ron was surprised by how well Malfoy treated his elves, especially in light of how he knew Dobby was treated. He shook his head. He didn't need to think of such things. He was on a mission. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to think how he could get what he wanted.

"What does you wanting one of my House-elves have to do with Pansy? That is how you convinced Tetterwort to let you into my home," Draco mused, swirling the amber liquid in the glass.

Ron knew he would have to let go of his pride eventually. So what if he was admitting he wasn't enough for the woman he loved to his worst enemy. In the end, it would bring him what he wanted. "I want to ask Pansy to move in with me," he exhaled.

Draco rolled his fingers, gesturing for him to continue.

"Well, she's used to a certain lifestyle. A lifestyle that I can't provide at this point in time. She doesn't like to clean house or cook. The woman can bake a mean cake, but ask her to make dinner..." Ron watched Draco nod his head. "I just want her to be happy, and having a House-elf will make our lives easier, making living together much smoother."

It seemed like several minutes - it was only two - had passed before Draco acknowledged his reasoning.

"Even with a House-elf, I highly doubt she'd say yes to living with you in a hovel," he jeered.

Ron held his breath and counted to ten. Hermione always told him this was how she managed to not kill him yet, and it seemed like a good tactic. She was always good for things like that. She never let him down, and with that thought, an idea popped into his head.

"She's more likely to say yes to living with me than Hermione is to shagging you," Ron blurted, mentally smacking himself. Yes, it was more than likely a sure thing, but Hermione would surely kill him for involving her in such a way. It was bad enough that he used information from their earlier chat to acquire a House-elf. To suggest Draco Malfoy try to seduce her, well that was just traitorous.

Draco scoffed. "Every woman wants to shag me," he drawled, "Even Granger. And your wager is moot anyway because you still need a House-elf." Draco knew, deep down, that he was going to give Ron a House-elf - He'd have to figure out which elf could stand a Weasley, first. It would make his mother and aunt very angry if he did anything to prevent the pair from furthering their relationship. He couldn't just _give_a House-elf to the Weasel though. He had to get something out of it. Maybe he could take his suggestion and lure Granger into his bed. He always wondered just how innocent she was - secretly he hoped she was a minx - she had all the makings to be one. "You know what. I'll give you the House-elf if you give me an up on Granger."

Ron gulped. He was in trouble. He knew he should be happy for getting what he wanted from Malfoy, but the thought of Hermione sending canaries after him when she found out... He wasn't sure if it was worth it all.

But he loved Pansy and he wanted her to be happy. He wanted to wake up with the woman in his arms and end his days returning to their home - one they lived in together.

Hermione would understand in the end.

"She's always at work, and if she isn't at work, she's irritating some other pureblood family into helping their House elves," Ron gestured towards the letter sent, "We, Harry and I, and really everyone else, maybe see her every fortnight, and it's only for drinks because she prefers to get her dinner somewhere else. She likes to eat at this Cuban restaurant in Muggle London nearby. I don't know the name but it starts with an N," he shrugged.

Draco figured that was the most information he could get out of the man - any more and it really was betraying his best friend's trust. He wanted to bed the girl, see if there was any chemistry - and if there was, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it Or burn it. Draco nodded, and snapped his fingers.

There were five distinct pops and Ron's eyes bulged. Five House-elves bowed to their master before turning so that their backs were to the wall so as not be facing him. He rolled his eyes.

Draco snickered. Figuring out which elf would go, could prove quite a challenge. "You've already met Circa, Tetterwort, and Whillikers," the three elves stepped forward, glaring at Ron. No, they wouldn't do, Draco thought. "Chooky was the one who delivered the lovely letter earlier," the House-elf stepped forward and kept its eyes straight ahead. He always liked Chooky, and didn't think he could let go of her. "And this is Cobblers," a black toga wearing jade-coloured House-elf with large blue eyes, small ears flapping, stepped forward and gave their guest a small smile.

She didn't know why the others were being rude to Master's guests.

Based on the elf's reaction, Draco made a decision.

"Cobblers, you will be put in Ronald Weasley's care. You'll be taking care of him and Pansy Parkinson - you remember her, don't you?" Draco said to the elf, sincerely smiling, sad to see her have to go.

The House-elf nodded her head, not really sure if she should be happy or not. Her cousin Ruhr had to leave his master because of some law but said that working at Hogwarts was all right. Ruhr complained during the summer when he didn't have anyone to tend to. She guessed having a new family was better than spending her summers not working. "Okay," she said.

"All right," Draco waved his wand and a piece of parchment appeared before them, floating in the air. He pricked his finger with his wand and pressed the cut to the parchment in front of him. It dissolved into ash and disappeared. "Weasley, you better treat Cobblers right," Draco threatened.

"What was that? Shouldn't you have given her a sock or something?" Ron was confused. Not only did Draco Malfoy give him a House-elf, he was treating all his elves well, but did some Hoodoo magic thing he had never seen or heard about before.

"My House-elves are all free, and other than the bit about 'only allowed to have one for every two household members' - which is bollocks, by the way - I abide by every section of the legislation."

Draco rose from his seat. He had plans to make. Places to go. People - a specific person, more like - to see. "You can see yourself out," he sneered.

* * *

Draco flirted his way past the secretary - an old barmy woman who put Molly Weasley's matronly body to shame - named Carole Haztlebee and sauntered towards the only open door on the whole of level four - and possibly all of the Ministry on a Saturday evening - and gaped.

Hermione was seated on the floor in a tight fitting smart suit - the only spot not covered in stacks of paper - legs crossed, notebook across one knee, tapping a quill on the other, and staring up at a wall full of different names in different colours.

It was giving Draco a headache.

He lightly tapped on the door and stepped inside, stepping only where slivers of floor peaked through stacks of parchment.

When there was no response, and he could hear a quiet voice humming, he decided it was time to speak. "Granger," he drawled.

Hermione startled and fell backwards. Some of the stacks flew in the aftermath of her lying on her back. She stared up at Draco Malfoy. He was upside down in her view, and it made her head hurt.

"Hello, Granger," he smirked, turning around and seating himself royally in a guest chair which was surprisingly free of paperwork.

"Malfoy, may I help you?" she asked, rolling over onto her stomach, glaring at the floor when another stack scattered, and pushed herself up. She dusted her pants and walked around the desk so she could once again seat herself to talk to the intruder.

He shifted in his seat until he was seated at its edge. He placed his hands on his knees, and looked Hermione right in the eye. "Why, yes, you may," he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, "What do you want?"

"For you to go to dinner with me," he drawled, face stoic as ever.

Hermione wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but she didn't find it funny in the slightest.

"Ha ha, really, what do you want?" she taunted. "Are you going to try and convince me to let it slide that you own five House-elves? Try and get out of the fines, hmm?"

He shook his head. "No, because it's Saturday. Besides, you'll find that I'm following every aspect of the law."

She scoffed, "I'll believe it when I see it."

"On Monday morning, you'll see," he smirked. "Now, about dinner," he queried.

"First off, I wouldn't go to dinner with you. Secondly, I'm busy," she harped, standing from her chair. Maybe if she ignored him, he'd go away. She went back to the list of elves on the board, wrapped her arm around herself, and held her elbow while resting her chin in her hand. She tapped on her lips, wondering if an epiphany would happen anytime before dinner.

Her stomach rumbled, and a whisper from behind her ear made her jump.

"You're hungry and I have reservations."

She spun around and pushed him away. She frowned when he didn't trip over any stacks of paper. They were traitors, only making her fall and never unwanted guests. She glared at them.

"Uh-hum," he harrumphed, "The Pucey's are claiming that Abigail is still living at home in order to keep a second House-elf. I happen to know that Abigail does not live at the Pucey Estate, but with her _husband_, Marcus Flint. Poor girl," he tsked.

Hermione's eyes bulged. She twisted around and stared at the wall. With that bit of information, numbers added up and now she could easily see the discrepancy between the Pucey and Flint homes. She Summoned a marker and began writing down notes. When she was finished, she beamed at the board and turned around and gasped.

He was still there.

"Now, I'll give you two more names. After dinner. We're going to be late to Negril," he said while grabbing her arm and pulling her from the office.

"Negril? I love Negril!" she admitted, then shouted, "Wait, it's in Muggle London!"

"Yes, I am aware," he smirked at her, still pulling her down the corridor towards the lifts.

He pressed the button to call the lift with the hand not holding onto Hermione's arm.

"But it's Cuban food. Isn't that too exotic for your tastes?" she questioned, finally realising he was still holding her.

DING, the doors opened and he gestured for her to enter first. She smiled and stepped inside. It wasn't every day she was treated like a lady. Minus the pulling her from the office though. But she was hungry and it was Negril! She hadn't gone in a few weeks, and she knew that she did need to let go. Wasn't it just earlier that day she mentioned finally using her vacation time?

"Not at all. It's a classy place that makes a mean Dulce de Leche," he added, happy that he did a little planning before coming in. Sure, he didn't really eat Cuban food that often, but his father took him to Havana once for business, and he remembered the drink that made the whole trip worth it.

"Oh, those are delicious!" she clapped her hands excitedly.

* * *

"Dulce de Leche!" Hermione beamed. She loved Negril. How Draco Malfoy heard about it, she'd never know, but she was happy he made reservations for her favourite restaurant.

While serving Cuban food predominantly, one wouldn't know from the decor. The tables were well-spaced and not crowded together, so not only was it easy to manoeuvre around, but every patron had an excellent view of the kitchen. Draco had originally intended for them to sit in a booth in the back, but Hermione refused, asking to be seated at her normal table - one that happened to be front and center, with the best view of the show.

She loved watching them prepare her meal. She couldn't cook very well at home, but the only dish she made exceedingly well was the one dish she watched them make here.

Her _fricase de pollo_- a stew of white wine tomato salsa with tender chicken pieces - was her staple meal when having friends over. It was delicious because she watched the chefs at Negril like a hawk.

This time, she watched Draco's - he insisted she call him such - meal being prepared. His _paella del oceano_was full of seafood and something she knew Harry and Ginny would enjoy if she could ever manage to recreate the saffron rice with aromatic herbs with fresh clams, mussels, fish and calamari. She'd also have to purchase a cast-iron skillet if she ever intended to try making that.

Their drinks arrived at the table, and Hermione sipped at the straw while watching the food be prepared.

Draco chuckled. While she was busy watching their dinner, he was watching her. She was fascinated and looked very much like she did when they were first years, all those years ago. He could still remember the small buck-toothed, bushy haired girl who caught his eye. She always had an answer, but was never jaded with magic. He was very disappointed to find out she was a Muggle-born, but at least now, that didn't matter.

"Do you always look like a wolf when presented with something new?" he asked.

She nodded her head and sipped her straw. They were adding the calamari now.

He laughed and asked a passing waiter for more Dulce de Leche. Hermione's was practically gone, and he could see her making to grab at his.

He caught her wrist when her fingers wrapped around the stem of his glass. "What do you think you're doing?"

She blushed - or maybe it was just the alcohol? - prettily. She gulped the last of her drink, and shoved it away with her loose hand. She arched her brow at his hand that was still holding her wrist. She shrugged and leaned forward and used her tongue to grab his straw. She took a long sip, sat back up, and smirked in his direction.

He pulled at his collar - it was suddenly so very hot - and let go of her wrist. The servers came and placed their plates in front of them, along with two new drinks. His hot plate was sizzling over the wooden block and he wasn't sure what to try first.

He was about to skewer one of the shrimp when he watched a calamari forked by his date. He watched as the fork brought the morsel to her mouth. Her moan of pleasure was almost as bad as her tongue. He took a gulp of his drink and focused on the food.

"So, are we going to talk or just eat?" she asked before taking another long sip of her drink. She really did like them.

"We'll talk. How about how you couldn't tear your eyes away from them preparing my food? Intend to recreate it for me sometime?" he teased.

"I'll have you know, I am not that good of a cook, and all I can make considerably well is a cup of tea, some salad, and what you see in front of me," she nudged the bowl holding her stew.

He chuckled and used his fork to steal some chicken from her meal. She watched as he wrapped his tongue around the chicken to pull it off his fork. He groaned in pleasure, making Hermione shudder deliciously. She refused to examine her reaction and left it to wallow at the back of her mind.

"That is rather good. You'll have to cook that for me sometime," he smirked, returning to his meal.

She gaped. Did he imply that they would be eating together again? She shook her head and focused on eating, occasionally taking long sips of her drink. The rum was starting to get to her, because she found his jesting endearing. He was Malfoy, for Godric's sake, and she wasn't supposed to find him endearing in the slightest. He was a Slytherin! That would never work.

Except Pansy and Ron work - even moving in together if everything worked out. Daphne and Neville were about to have a kid. And if Padma could get along with _Goyle_ so well as to have a _second_child... Well, apparently the Slytherins had something.

Maybe she could figure it out with this one.

"So, Draco, tell me about yourself. I haven't seen you since Neville's wedding." She asked, pointing at her drink when a waiter passed by.

"Well, I live in the Manor, as you know. My mother and Aunt stay with me, plus little Teddy," he said.

"Oh, I know, that's how you're allowed to have two House-elves," she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Well, yeah, and I have two more. I had to let one go today. The other two... Let's just say I found loopholes in your legislation," he smirked, barely restraining from sticking his tongue out back at her.

"Wha," she gawked, "how is that possible?"

"You'll see on Monday morning," he smiled.

Hermione liked that smile, and smiled in return. She wasn't sure what was going on, but the more she drank, the less she had to think.

"So, what do you do then? Do you just sit on your laurels letting the Malfoy money trickle in?" she smiled, letting him know she was jesting.

"I'll have you know I do not sit on my laurels. I play with Teddy. I'm trying to teach him how to fly. Or I work in my Potion's lab, researching."

"Don't think that divergence tactic will work on me! Teddy is far too young to be learning to fly!" She gasped.

Draco pushed her drink into her hand, hinting that she should drink instead of talk about flying.

She finished the rest of her drink - a little less than half - in one gulp.

"You okay there, Granger?" he teased, sending for more drinks - his being finished already too.

"Hey! You called me Granger!" she mock-shouted.

"Yeah, I guess I did, what you going to do about it, Granger?" he taunted, nodding his thanks when the waiter left their drinks on the table once again.

Hermione grabbed his drink away from him and clutched it close. He eyed hers but she grabbed it too before he could have it. She sipped at her drink and then licked her tongue around Draco's straw.

"This is a game you don't want to play," he drawled.

She smirked - at least she thought it was a smirk, it was very difficult while drunk, but she use to practice the Malfoy smirk when she was in school and she hoped it was like riding a bicycle (something you never forget) - and wrapped her lips around the straw, sucking it in and out.

"Maybe you should stop drinking," he rasped, pulling both drinks away from her, throwing both straws out of the goblets onto the table. He didn't think he could take her teasing him like that. She was silly with her blatant flirting. It was cute. He almost didn't want to see what she was like in bed.

Almost.

"So, question," Hermione purred, "is this a date?"

Draco nodded, eyes sparkling.

"Really now. Why?" She asked, petting her drink before sipping at it some more.

"Because I wanted to ask you out," he replied, also sipping at his drink.

"Well, what makes you ask a girl out?" she asked, still sipping her drink, it was almost gone.

"She needs to be smart, for one." He drawled, turning his chair so he sat closer to her. He placed an arm on the back of her chair and leaned forward so that he whispering in her ear. "Successful, funny."

"Does the infamous Draco Malfoy care about her personality more than her looks? What would the papers think!" she joked, pretending to be surprised, putting her hand in front of her mouth as she mock-gasped.

He licked the shell of her ear and whispered, "She also has to have a nice arse. And legs," he placed his opposite hand on her thigh and rubbed up and down it, "that go on for miles."

"Let's get out of here?" she murmured, eyes closed, taking deep breaths, enjoying the caresses Draco was giving her.

He didn't need to say yes. He just threw some money on the table, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of the restaurant.

* * *

They were in his room at the Manor, he had her pushed against his door, slowly peeling her clothes off, kissing lips, neck, any skin that was available.

He pulled off her blazer and nibbled on her shoulder, working his way up. "Are you alright?" he drawled into her ear, nipping at her neck.

"Am I alright?" she moaned, fists clenching onto his dinner shirt, trying to pull it off him.

"Mhmm," he hummed into her lips, ravishing her mouth while unzipping her trousers.

She broke the kiss and pulled his shirt over his head, happy to see more of his skin. She rubbed her hands down his chest, following the light trail of hairs to his belt, and began unbuckling.

"What kind of man do you say yes to?" he asked, pulling her singlet over her head, leaning forward and kissing her breastbone, following the outline of her bra.

"Smart and witty," she pulled the belt from his pants, "successful," she unzipped his pants, "gorgeous," and pushed his trousers down.

"So, me?" he smirked, unclasping her bra.

"Mhmm," she hummed, tugging on his hair.

"Okay, cause, Granger-"

"Hermione," she interjected, pulling him for a kiss once more.

He kept kissing her for a few moments, then leant back, "This isn't a one-off. I intend on taking you out again."

"Good, because tonight was fun," she said, pulling his boxers off and pushing him towards his bed.


	2. Act II

Draco woke up the next morning to the smell of jasmine and vanilla. He inhaled deeply and smiled. He liked that smell. He cuddled closer to it and almost choked on hair.

He opened one eye and was assaulted by brown. Lots and lots of brown. He opened the other eye and it was all still brown.

He craned his neck back a bit to see where the brown was coming from and saw rambunctious curls coming from a head. The head lead down to a slender body - a very naked body - that had his other arm wrapped around it.

He settled himself back into his pillows and pulled her close. Who knew Granger was a wildcat in bed? Well, guess he did, considering he had always hoped she was a minx.

The soreness of his own body attested to that.

He had fun the night before. Yeah, finding Ronald Weasley in his foyer was unexpected. And using that to his advantage to find an edge in getting with Hermione - who he always fancied or admired in some capacity - well, he wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.

He nuzzled into her hair and took a deep breath. He could get use to mornings like this.

The other body started to fidget until she turned over and was facing him. She wrapped a leg around his and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Morning," she mumbled, tickling his chest with her breath.

"Morning," he replied, kissing the top of her head. He wasn't sure when he became sappy - probably between her third and fourth drink - but having Hermione Granger in his bed made him feel giddy.

And as long as Cobblers was well treated - Pansy and the elf always got along, so he shouldn't worry - then everything was worth it.

A pop woke up the pair who were dozing off once again. Draco looked over Hermione's head to the foot of the bed with a tray resting on the elf's arm. "Good morning master," Tetterwort announced, stepping to the side of the bed to place the morning tray on the night stand.

"A House-elf!" Hermione hissed.

"A free House-elf," he murmured. "Tetterwort, can you please have another tray prepared for Miss Granger."

Hermione was going to protest. She pushed herself out of his arms, wrapping the sheet around herself, and stopped herself from saying anything. The House-elf was wearing a waistcoat with a green and silver tie around its neck. It popped out of the room before she got over her shock.

"He was wearing a Slytherin tie," she mumbled, still not sure she believed Draco Malfoy had elves wearing clothes, or looked like they had never received punishment.

Draco pulled her back into bed and wrapped his arms around her.

Hermione was still gaping like a fish, just into his chest, which was stirring feelings in him again.

"Hermione," he whispered.

"You said my name," she smiled.

"I said it last night quite a bit," he drawled.

She blushed at the reminder. Hermione didn't expect for things to escalate the way they did - she thought they would snog, sure, but not shag three times, all before collapsing into bed, before they shagged another two times, finally falling asleep. She didn't regret it though. It was amazing and exactly what she needed.

And if he had meant what he said before they even truly started, then, it was all well worth it. Having a follow-up date was something she was unused to. Having a date in general was something she was unused to.

"A sickle for your thoughts," he muttered, trailing his fingers up and down Hermione's spine, making her shiver.

"Did you mean it?" she asked, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. If he didn't, she'd be embarrassed and would have to leave as soon as possible.

"About going on another date?" he asked, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes.

She nodded, staring back at him.

"Yes, and then another date, and another date, and when my mother and aunt ask me to bring someone for Christmas dinner, I'll invite you to go with me. For once I'll have my own little Christmas celebration - with you, after we be good for the elders, of course," he teased, leaning forward to kiss her again.

They stayed like that, snogging until Tetterwort popped back into the room, startling Hermione so that she fell out of the bed.

Luckily the sheet came with her.

"I's sorry, Miss," Tetterwort apologized, sending the tray to the nightstand on her side.

"Oh, don't worry," Hermione stammered, holding the sheet to preserve her modesty.

Draco laughed from atop the bed, not bothering to help her get up.

When Tetterwort left the room once more, Hermione stood up, hands on her hips, in all her glory, making Draco immediately shut up. He eyed her body from head to toe, and back again.

"You think that was funny, huh?" she shouted, "Well, you won't when I'm through with you," she swaggered to the bed.

Draco watched her hips sway, not ready for the assault about to come.

Hermione pounced on the bed, pushing him onto his back, and began tickling his sides. Her fingers dug into his ribs, and Draco had trouble breathing.

"Stop," he panted between laughs.

"Say you're sorry," she taunted, moving her fingers up his sides.

"Sorry!" he gasped.

Hermione stopped and giggled before falling next to him on the bed. She cuddled into him once again, and kissed his cheek.

"Did you mean it?" she asked, hiding her insecurity behind her hair.

"Yes," he nodded. "I've always fancied you," he murmured.

"What was that?" she probed, laying on her elbow so that she was looking down into his face.

"I've always fancied you," he confessed loudly. "You're the first person I've ever told that to."

Hermione smiled and chastely pressed her lips to his. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back on top of him.

A morning shag before having breakfast was in order.

* * *

Hermione was excited. It was Saturday. Six days since she left Draco's. She officially started her vacation, and after a gift-exchange with Harry and Ron, she would be going on the promised second date.

Her heart was all a flutter and she almost didn't know what to do with herself.

It was the first time in ages that she painstakingly worked on her appearance. She ensured her wild hair was more smooth curls than bird's nest. She picked out an emerald dress that hugged her body nicely, without being unseemly. She put on just enough makeup to flatter her features.

Ron and Harry didn't understand why Hermione showed up to Ron's flat all dressed up, but she glared at them before they could ask. The two looked at each other and shrugged.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry announced, pulling her into a hug.

"Yeah, hi," Ron stammered, hugging her next. He pulled her into the sitting room and directed her and Harry into a black and white damask loveseat. Ron then sat in an ornate - Hermione thought it was baraque, most likely Pansy's - dark red armchair. Hermione admired the eclectic touches of the room. The table in front of them was modern in design, all sleek and straight corners, while the fireplace was an intricate marble design with an iron-wrought mirror above it.

If she ever redecorated her flat, she knew who to contact.

"So who first?" Harry asked, pulling two presents from his pocket and Enlarging them. One was long and thick, wrapped in red and gold. He placed it on the table in front of Ron. He then placed the other down, a present wrapped in purple tissue that Hermione very much expected to be a book.

She smiled, and did the same, placing an orange envelope in front of Ron and a green in front of Harry.

Ron looked puzzled by Hermione's gift, but shrugged. He placed down two presents that were meticulously wrapped in silver paper, blue ribbon tied around it, and a bow on top.

Both Hermione and Harry raised an eyebrow in question to the ornate looking gifts.

"Pansy," Ron smiled.

The two nodded, knowing that was all the answer they needed.

"Okay, just like we do every year?" Hermione asked, holding both gifts in her lap now.

"Yes," the boys agreed, ripping open their gifts before even finishing the word.

Hermione shook her head and opened Harry's gift first. Inside was the newest version of _Hogwarts: a History_. She shook her head - the book had been out for a month, but Hermione knew to wait until the gift exchange. Harry bought her the latest edition every single year. She opened Ron's gift and found a first edition _De Occult Philosophia_ by Cornelius Agrippa. She was shocked and she looked at Ron.

"Pansy," he shrugged. "Malfoy told her it would be something you'd enjoy," he tried very hard not to sneer, knowing that the git was a good friend of his girlfriend's.

She was touched. This was a rare find and very touching. She wondered if she should get a gift for Draco and what would be good. They had gone on the one date, but Christmas was next week. She worried her lip.

"Hermione!" the boys shouted in glee. Hermione looked at them and grinned, happy that her gifts of season tickets to Chudley Cannons and Puddlemere United went over well. They jumped up and hugged her from both sides, making her fall back into the chair.

"Can't breathe," she gasped.

The two let go and returned to their seat and began speaking of their plans for the upcoming Quidditch season. Hermione opened her new book and started to read. She was ecstatic to read the thoughts of a sixteenth century wizard who tried to influence Muggles into believing in magic - eventually getting himself imprisoned by them, Muggles thinking his books evil. She was fascinated and drawn in.

Not realising the time, she was startled when Pansy came into the room to join them. She coughed to garner attention. Hermione looked up, leaving her finger in the book to save her place, and smiled at the woman. Pansy Parkinson was slowly becoming a favourite of hers.

"Don't you have a date to get to?" She asked, making herself comfortable on the arm of Ron's chair.

Hermione looked for the time, saw it on a modern clock - monochromatic, just white and black, with a dark grey thick frame - and gasped.

She jumped up and started to get her things together., "I have to be going. Thank you so much for the gifts!"

"Who do you have a date with?" Ron asked.

Harry gave her a piercing stare, asking the same thing.

"Umm," she stammered. Did she really want to get into it with her friends right now? She was already running late. She shifted from foot to foot, trying to think what best to say.

Luckily, Pansy saw the stress in her eyes and distracted them. "Don't mind her. Cobblers has prepared a light tea for us before the party later."

At the name, a shiny green House-elf dressed in a black toga, walked into the room with a large tea tray.

Hermione, having forgotten the date completely at the sight of the House-elf, gawked. "Ron, when did you get a House-elf?" she asked.

"Umm," Ron stammered. This time it was him shifting from foot to foot.

Harry returned to his seat, no longer in the middle of the two should this escalate. He pulled out his wand and rested it on his thigh, just in case, though.

"Ronald," she questioned once more.

"He came to my house with Cobblers last night. To help me pack my things and bring them over. Apparently Draco had to get rid of him, and Ron was kind enough to adopt him," Pansy cooed.

"Draco _gave_ you his House-elf?" Hermione asked, slowly fuming. She wasn't sure what was going on but she knew it wasn't something she was happy about. The cogs were turning in her mind, and what they were coming up with, wasn't a very pretty picture.

"Yeah," Ron muttered. Not sure who to anger more. He was lying to both his girlfriend and best friend, but each would be mad for a different reason.

"Did you go see him after visiting me? Asking about protocols?" She asked, pacing, jerking her forearms up and down, flustered.

"Yeah," he responded once more, closing his eyes in anticipation.

"And he just _gave_ the elf to you?" Hermione asked once more.

"Hermione, he already said he did, why does this matter?" Pansy asked, standing up from her perch on the chair. She held her arms out in a gesture meant to be 'I mean no harm.'

"You can't just _give_ a House-elf away. The laws don't allow for that. Ron didn't even know that Draco was breaking the law. You went to see Draco? Because you couldn't go through the proper channels? Why did you need an elf so bad that you went behind my back!" She finally shouted, having stopped pacing, facing him, letting her arms fall at the end of her statement. Her face was red and she had to take deep breaths to stay calm.

"I'm sorry," he shouted back, "but I wanted Pansy to feel at home and not feel like she was living in a hovel, like Malfoy suggested. She grew up with a House-elf to cook and clean, and Cobblers is still free you know!" He started pacing, still shouting, "I went to Malfoy, but the prick made me practically beg, and explain why I needed a House-elf. Didn't believe it would help me convince Pansy, but it did, didn't it. She's moved in and we're throwing a housewarming party tonight because of it. He had to be so smug about it. And I guess I was thinking about you at the time, but I told him that Pansy would move in with me before Hermione would shag him. And I was right, wasn't I?"

Before he finished his sentence, the door slammed shut. Hermione had already left, leaving one fuming witch.

Ron gulped. He didn't know if he was lucky or not to only have one to worry about, but the look on Pansy's face meant murder. He looked back at Harry who shook his head solemnly. Ron gulped again.

"You WHAT?" Pansy shouted.

* * *

"So you two had dinner last week?" Andromeda asked, trying to hold a squirming Teddy in her lap.

"Yes, and she's supposed to be coming over this afternoon for tea," Narcissa beamed.

Draco blushed, and grabbed a sandwich - cucumber again, he had an order to the sandwiches he nibbled on at full tea. "Yes," he replied, "She should have been here by now."

"Don't you worry. She does a gift exchange with the boys every year on the Saturday before the holiday," Andromeda assured him. She grabbed a fruit bread roll for her grandson. He happily took it from her and began munching.

"Well, that's all fine and dandy, but when is Hermione Granger ever late?" he ranted, pouring milk into his empty teacup. "I mean, the woman is known for being scrupulous when it comes to the rules. Etiquette rules included." He poured the Lady Grey tea into his cup while he continued to complain.

"She'll be here, don't worry," his mother assured him, patting his arm. She took the teapot from him and poured her sister and herself a cup of tea, adding some honey to hers.

Andromeda nodded towards the sugar bowl and also reassured her nephew, "Yes, keep your chin up. Now tell us about your date."

Draco smiled at the support his female relatives were providing him. He was nervous and wanted to pace about the room - but he was a Malfoy, so he didn't. Instead, he sat in his chair and tried not to think about all the possibilities. Did she second guess their very young relationship? Did she regret their evening out the previous week? He had a million questions and zero answers. All together, he was quite antsy. Luckily his family was there and able to keep his mind off of it.

He passed the sugar to his aunt and began telling them about his date. "Well, I took her to this Muggle restaurant known for its kitchen theatre and Cuban food. She apparently loves the stuff."

"How did you find out about her love of Cuban food or the restaurant?" his mother questioned.

Draco's cheek flushed slightly and he sheepishly looked into his teacup. He let a moment pass by before he lifted his cup and swallowed some tea. "Ronald Weasley told me," he breathed out quickly, hoping they would let the subject drop.

They didn't. Instead the two women gasped. Teddy opened his mouth wide in an attempt at gasping but couldn't make the noise. So instead he just shrugged and reached for another sandwich.

His grandmother, not wanting the toddler to topple over, readjusted the child in her lap and handed him a cucumber sandwich - which Teddy took the green stuff out of and tried to pass to Draco. "How did he come to give you this information?"

"It was a trade of sorts," Draco replied, taking the cucumber from the kid, much to the disdain of his mother.

"Okay, continue," Narcissa said, knowing her son didn't want to divulge the details of his schemes.

"Well," he started, "I had to practically bribe her into the date. She didn't want to leave work, even though it was a Saturday and you could hear her stomach rumbling from down the hall."

The two women chuckled light heartedly, and Teddy giggled.

"What did you bribe her with?" Narcissa asked.

"Did you tell her you'd get rid of your elves?" Andromeda tittered, knowing how humourous and unlikely an offer would be.

"Almost, I offered her names and ways to free other elves." Draco smirked, while the plot wasn't nefarious in any way, it still felt good to get what he wanted in the end while making the lives of his adversaries more difficult. Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint always gave him flack back at Hogwarts and although he should let bygones be bygones, he couldn't help getting some good natured revenge out of it. Plus, it was all for a good cause. Hermione Granger as his girlfriend, House-elf freedom, and all that rot.

"Devious," Andromeda smirked, helping her grandson drink some milk from a teacup.

"Quite," Narcissa added, sipping from her own tea.

"Yes," he replied, taking another sip, "And then we went to Negril, where you can watch them make your food. It was quite good, surprisingly. And we both had drinks with our meal, and we were talking, and she was more than what I thought she would be."

"How so?" both women asked.

"Well, she was charming and funny. She's wicked smart, we all know, but she doesn't gloat about it. She was also genuinely interested in what I had to say. She asked questions, and responded in kind. It was refreshing."

"Well, what did you expect?"

"Well, on some level what happened. I didn't think we would drink so much, for one," he responded, watching Teddy try to squirrel his way out of his grandmother's lap once more. "I thought it could be boring. I didn't know what to expect at a Muggle establishment for food or drinks. I didn't think Granger would look as good as she did, or make me laugh as much as possible. Or flirt to the point where it was quite obvious what was going to happen at the end of our date," he blushed.

A gasp from the doorway behind him was heard. Teddy finally managed to break free from his grandmother's clutches and ran in that direction. Draco and his mother turned around to watch him run towards a red-faced teary-eyed Hermione Granger, wrapping his arms around her legs.

"Teddy, come here," Andromeda whispered.

"How could you?" Hermione whispered, furiously wiping the wet tracks from her cheeks. "I thought," she started to say but pulled Teddy's arms off of her. "Never mind," she said and spun around, briskly walking back down the corridor to leave the house.

Draco jumped from his seat as soon as she spun around. "Hermione," he shouted, about to run after her.

His mother's hand on his arm stilled him. She and his aunt shook their head at him. "Give her a moment. But you better fix this," she scolded, getting up from the table and leading her sister and grand-nephew from the room, to let Draco stew.

* * *

It was later that afternoon that Draco found himself sitting in the parlour of the old Parkinson home. His best friend was sitting in the chair opposite him, shaking her head at him.

He hadn't said a word about why he was there. And he had been there for the better part of an hour.

The whole time he sat in his favourite armchair - a green velvet chair by the fireplace that he had claimed as his when he was five - hunched over, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands, eyes closed.

He messed up, and he wasn't one hundred percent sure how.

"She won't return my owls, my Floo calls, every attempt to see her at her flat or at work I'm blocked off by wards, a secretary who denies me access, hexes and stings thwarting any progress I make. I don't know what I said that would make her like this," he sighed.

Pansy continued to shake her head at him. It took her a few minutes before responding, "Maybe it wasn't just what you said, but what she found out beforehand _on top_of hearing you speak ill of her." She glared at him, still unhappy with the turn of events.

She was excited to move in with Ron. Sure, having Cobblers was a welcomed surprise, but after learning the circumstances and the reasoning for it, well, needless to say, Pansy Parkinson was an unhappy witch. After Hermione left her - _Ron's_ - flat earlier in the day, she smacked him. She then politely asked Cobblers to return all her things to their proper place back at home and then Apparated away. She couldn't look at her boyfriend - _or was it ex?_ - less she kill him. Firstly, for him to throw his best friend under the bus - as the Muggles or Arthur Weasley, would say - like that negated one of the very reasons she loved the man - his loyalty. Secondly, for him to think that her love would only be there as long as her life remained easy and carefree; it meant that he didn't really know her or didn't have faith in her love. She couldn't be in a relationship like that.

So she came home, and sat in her parlour reflecting on the day. She sat there for the rest of the afternoon when Draco stumbled in - his hair in disarray from his fingers running through it too many times. He collapsed into his favourite chair and hadn't said a word until just now. She had glared at him the whole time, trying to figure out if he had ever really meant the things he said about Granger - the mean things he would say to keep face or the nice things that he thought no one knew about.

"What are you talking about?" he finally asked, more confused now then he was earlier.

She rolled her eyes, she hated it when a man played dumb, especially when they were as smart as Draco. "Don't act like you don't know," she snarled.

"I really don't know!" he snapped.

"So you're telling me," she asked, "that you didn't wager Ron that you could get Hermione in your bed?"

He huffed, making an audible noise in the back of his throat. After a minute of ignoring Pansy's glare, he sighed, "Fuck."

"You're damn right," she harrumphed, tilting her nose upwards and crossing her arms for good measure.

The two sat in silence. Each contemplating the happenings of their lives. Eventually - fifteen minutes later - Draco exhaled slowly and sat up in his chair. He stared at Pansy and finally realised they were at her childhood home.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"I live here," she replied, not looking him in the eye.

"No, you don't," he challenged, "you live in that hovel of a flat with Weasley."

"Don't call it a hovel," she countered, glaring at her best friend, "and no, I don't."

"What happened?"

"He thinks I can't live without a House-elf. That I need one to live comfortably with him," she sputtered, finally letting the tears she held at bay flow free.

"Pans," he said softly, moving himself to kneel in front of her. He grabbed her into a hug and let her cry into his shoulder. "The guy is a dunce, you know, but you love him."

"I do," she cried.

"And the man has serious self-esteem issues. You've known this since we were at Hogwarts."

"Uh huh," she nodded, sniffling.

"So, of course he doesn't understand why a passionate, beautiful, and smart woman like you would want to be with him." He rubbed her back to soothe her until the sniffling stopped. "It's not that he doesn't believe you don't love him, it's just he needs to make sure he can keep you happy. He probably doesn't think he deserves you, and he's right."

Pansy punched him in the chest but giggled nonetheless.

"Plus, I really did have to let Cobblers go. You and her always got along growing up, and I probably would have given her to you anyway. Go back to the Weasel, Merlin only knows how bad a shape he's in without you there. That hovel probably resembles a rathole now." He jested, quickly dodging another punch.

"Okay," she smiled. Her best friend was right. Ron was an idiot, but he was her idiot. She could only hope that Draco could fix the mess he was in with Hermione. Pansy wanted him to be as happy as she would be - after properly punishing her boyfriend.

* * *

Hermione found herself once again sitting on her floor staring at the wall of names. She was cross-legged and had one elbow pressed on her knee, holding her head up. With the other hand she tapped on the opposite knee every now and then.

Every time she tried to focus on working - she didn't care that it was Sunday - her mind drifted to the week before. Waking up with Draco was wonderful, and the days that followed were filled with notes passed by Owl filled with witty banter. It made her work days less dull and actually made her take a break.

She missed the ferret.

But she was still angry.

She huffed and slapped her knee. This wasn't working. She couldn't work and she didn't want to go home.

She did the next best thing and went to Ron's. She wasn't sure what sort of aftermath she left the day before, but she did want to smack the bloke at least once. Maybe then she'd feel a little better.

She left the Ministry and Apparated to her friend's flat and saw that it was much in the same state it was when she had arrived the day before. She knocked on the door and only waited a second before Pansy opened it.

"Hi," Hermione said, watching herself toe the ground.

"Hey," Pansy replied, moving aside to let Hermione enter, "Come in."

Hermione sighed in relief and walked inside. She saw the place looked just as immaculate and Ron was setting up a long table against a wall for refreshments.

"Uh," Hermione stuttered.

"We've moved our party to today," Pansy answered the unspoken question.

Hermione nodded her head in thanks and then walked over to Ron. "Ronald," she said in an even tone. She grabbed the sheet and aired it out to cover the table.

The pair helped set up the room for the party: bringing food from the kitchen, rearranging furniture. After an hour, Hermione finally broke the silence. "Why?"

"I love her," Ron sheepishly whispered, seating himself on the couch.

"And why drag me in?" she sighed, seating herself next to him.

"I really didn't mean to. I was just thinking about you at the time and he was just so smug," he replied. "Bet you showed him. Getting a free meal without giving into his charm," he smiled.

"Huh?" Hermione looked up at him, staring at the huge grin on his face. She was confused.

"Yeah, Draco was here earlier with Pans. I asked him about your date," he air quoted the word with his fingers, "and he said he couldn't get you to go anywhere with him other than the restaurant. And for this I feel much better," his grin split his face in half.

"He said we didn't shag?" Hermione questioned.

"Naw," he yawned, covering his mouth, "just that somehow he convinced you to go on another date with him."

"And you're not mad?" Hermione gaped.

"Well, at first, yeah. But, he convinced Pansy to come back. That Cobblers is better off here with us and while my initial reasoning was ill-advised, the sentiment is what counted. His words, and now Pansy is here and the housewarming party is back on. Plus Pansy says he's crazy about you, and he managed to get you to stop working that one time. Might be good for you."

Hermione shook her head. Maybe she was wrong to blow up on Draco. She only hoped he would show up tonight and everything would be set straight. She did fancy the bloke and she'd rather end the evening with a good meal and fuck with the man.

* * *

The party was a success. Dumbledore would have smiled at the amount of interhouse shenanigans going on in the Weasley-Parkinson home. Slytherins with Gryffindors, Ravenclaws with Slytherins, Hufflepuffs with everyone else. It was a nice blend and showed that the war was truly over.

Hermione sighed.

The party had been going on for over an hour and she still hadn't caught sight of Draco. She was watching the door like a hawk and every time she heard it shut she would glance around the room for the newcomer. But they were never Draco.

"Hermione, can you get more ice, the bin is starting to run low." Ron asked from the other side of the room. He had his arm wrapped around Pansy. They were talking to Daphne and Neville, who had his palms rubbing on his pregnant wife's belly.

Hermione sighed again. She wanted that. Not right now, of course, but someone to have that with. And, yes, for the past week she thought it was Draco, and she had to go and blow up over a misunderstanding the day before. Possibly ruining her chances for the happiness she thought he could be a part of.

She wiped a stray tear from her face and stomped to the kitchen. She didn't want anyone to see her upset over their happiness. She slammed the freezer door - surprisingly, Pansy's idea to own one - to grab some ice when she heard a drawled, "Granger."

She spun around instantly and gasped. Draco looked like he hadn't slept. He had dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes and his hair looked like he hadn't combed it since yesterday. In fact, he looked like he was still in the same clothes that she saw him in when she stopped by the Manor.

"Granger, I'm," his apology was interrupted by Hermione jumping into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist, and her lips pressed tightly to his.

The chaste kiss quickly escalated and the pair managed to christen the kitchen before the homeowners.

Much to the derision of one Ronald Billius Weasley.


End file.
